


Eight Seconds

by Earpalicious



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Champ pov, Champions, F/M, Gen, Introspection, POV Third Person, Supernatural Elements, he's not a bad guy really, just kind of a douchebag, legacy, relationships, rodeo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 04:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12161562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earpalicious/pseuds/Earpalicious
Summary: “8 seconds! That’s 8 seconds flat, meaning Purgatory has a new champion - Hardy James!”This is the one-off Champ POV fic that literally nobody asked for.I know there's a lot of hate for his character (I'm not super keen on him either), but I think that painting him to be some monstrous villain does a disservice to Waverly's character. The more I thought about it, the more interesting I figured it would be to explore what might have been going through Champ's mind throughout season 1.Comments welcome, but please - be gentle.





	Eight Seconds

_“8 seconds! That’s 8 seconds flat, meaning Purgatory has a new champion - Hardy James!_ ”

He hears his own name called out across the tinny speakers above the stands and roars out to the crowd as they simply fall to pieces to cheer for him. He throws his arms up, victorious - a _champion_. Nineteen years old. Champ Hardy James. The crowd loves him.

The steer he just wrestled to the ground scrambles back to its feet and away as he releases it. He doesn’t see where it goes. He’s not even aware of it anymore. Just the crowd. The whole town, shouting and stamping their feet with applause from every side of the rodeo ground.

Eight seconds - that’s a new record. Best before him was Frank Milton, seven years ago, nine and a half seconds. A new champion with a new record. Eight seconds flat - _Champ_ Hardy. He decides to make the name stick. It’s more than a win - it’s a legacy. _His_ legacy.

He sees some of the Purg High-ers that he invited out to watch the games. They’re already screaming it - “ _Champ! Champ! Champ!_ ” Among them is Waverly Earp. She’s brought her cheerleading pom poms and she’s waving them like nuts. For him. The Champ. She’s dead cute with those things. He’s glad he took a chance on her. She’s pretty smart and no where near as weird as her sister. Not to mention she’s gotten super hot in the last couple of years and he wanted to get in there before someone else did.

And she’s screaming her head off for him, cheering just like everyone else. He shoots a wink and a dazzling smile, just for her. She returns it with her own smile. He thinks maybe tonight may finally be _the night_. Because Waverly was no longer dating Hardy James. She was dating a Champ. And everybody loves a Champ.

* * *

Eight seconds. It’s been four years and still nobody has beaten it. There have been other rodeo champions since he hung up his spurs, but his legacy remains. He hopes it always will. He’s proud of it. The whole town is proud of it. He’s more than just a champion, he’s a town treasure. A hero. Folks don’t need to say it so much any more - it’s just common knowledge now. Take a trip to Shorty’s and you can drink where Wyatt Earp did, and shoot pool with Champ Hardy James. He took a calf to its knees in eight seconds flat.

Someone does still say it though. Waverly always remembers to tell people that don’t know, or that have forgotten that his record still stands. He loves her for it. It’s like she’s his biggest fan. And it’s a pretty solid way to send other dudes packing when they try and creep on his girl. Nobody wants to mess with Champ. Nobody puts a move on his girl. Waves is always so reliable that way. It’s been three years and she’s still one hundred percent his. He’s sure she’ll be around forever now. Even if other dudes do keep hitting on her. That part seems to be getting worse, more guys, more often. She turns them all away, but still.

He used to like that part himself, turning people down. Right after his eight-second record win, he had girls practically throwing themselves at him. He’d never struggled to pick up chicks anyway, but everyone loved a champion. He’d been pretty damn popular for a long while after. He’d been able to turn down girls left right and centre and still got in a good bit of flirting. There might have been the odd makeout here and there a couple of years ago, but nothing more than a little fooling around in the alley outside Shorty’s after a few drinks. Nothing that mattered. He had Waverly for that. Most of these girls just wanted a quick fling with the Champ, but Waverly would totally stick by him. He could count on her for that. 

And girls throw themselves at him much less often these days anyway. There are new champions of the Purgatory rodeo, and anyway it’s a small town. Everybody knows he’s with Waverly. And it’s not like Waverly isn’t enough. She’s super hot, she’s super friendly, she always slips him free shots from the bar. She’s good for a lot of things. She’d talked him up to her aunt and uncle and he’d got the job as a ranch hand on McCready’s land. And she’s like a walking commercial for his handyman biz on the side. 

They’ll probably get married some day. Probably have two or three kids, and he’ll make sure at least one of them is called Hardy. He’ll teach them everything he knows about the rodeo. Maybe his record will stand until they’re old enough to compete. Maybe Hardy Jr will be the one to beat eight seconds. A new kind of legacy. 

But there’s no rush. There’s loads of time for that. And it’s not like he could get started on any Mini-Champs any time soon even if he did want to. Waverly had barely let him touch her lately. She’d been pretty much a non-stop nun since her uncle died. 

 _That_ was a messed up day. He’s still not sure exactly what happened. He and Curtis had been chasing down some cattle that had wandered. He’d found the old man eventually miles off the ranch, all the way onto the old Earp homestead land. Curtis’ truck had been left, engine still running, on the edge of a ditch. Curtis himself was at the ditch’s bottom. Apparently they never found his head. 

Champ shudders and knocks back the rest of his beer. Gus had told everyone that Curtis had a heart attack out on the ranch. She’d made it clear that was the story they were going to tell Waverly. To be honest, Champ prefers that version. He doesn’t know why the hell Curtis wound up in a ditch with his skull missing, and he doesn’t _want_ to know. Stuff like this just happens in Purgatory now and then. No sense dwelling on it. 

Besides, today he’s preoccupied. Today a somewhat familiar face has walked into Shorty’s. It’s been a few years since he’s seen Waverly’s big sister Wynonna. She doesn’t look much like Waverly, but she’s still pretty easy on the eyes. 

She’s being descended upon by Carl, a local piece of shit idiot. Champ knows Wynonna’s more than capable of dealing with this herself - she’s a wild card who never has a problem laying people out when they annoy her. She has a history of being violent, since going way back to school. She shot her own freakin’ dad after all. Still, her ass is looking a good deal finer than Champ remembers and it’s been a while since he got to play hero. 

He claps a hand on Carl’s shoulder and shoves the greasy trailer park trash away from the crazy Earp. “Getting beat up by a girl again Carl?” 

Carl nearly shits himself as he sees Champ towering over him and the next thing you know he’s scrambling away towards the door. Nobody wants to mess with a Champ. 

“Champ. My hero,” Wynonna doesn’t even break her concentration from the snooker table. “Listen, uh, I was hoping I could talk to you... about what happened to my uncle.” 

Wynonna is hot for sure. She was always wild, always a loose canon. Before she cut out of town she actually _looked_ as crazy as she was, all rough around the edges. It looks like the time away has done her some good. She’s looking pretty damn bangable now. 

“Bring those lips, we can, uh, "talk" all night long.” Flirting is fun and comes to him effortlessly. He knows he’s a catch. Most of the girls in town have expressed an interest at some point. A few of the dudes too. 

Wynonna frowns, but still smiles. “You didn't pay me a second glance in high school.” 

This is true, although Champ hadn’t been the only one. Wynonna’s a few years older than him but it wasn’t unusual for popular Purg High senior girls to get a school-wide following. Champ remembers watching out for more than one senior girl in his earlier high school years, but Wynonna certainly wasn’t one of them. Sure, she was hot, but batshit crazy. 

“Hey, you were kind of a freak,” he says honestly. 

The look on Wynonna’s face says she’s not bothered by his answer. “You have no idea.” 

Champ makes a quick glance around the bar. He knows Waverly’s not working until later anyway, but can’t help but check. Not that it matters really. Wynonna kind of still is a freak, and she’s never liked him. 

But she sidles up to him with a look in her eye that says otherwise and places a hand on his bicep. Champ flashes his pearly white smile and realises she’s interested for real. He had only been flirting before, he didn’t think she’d bite. He’s surprised, but not unhappy. Everybody needs to let off some steam every now and then and Waverly made it clear she isn’t gonna be in the mood any time soon. And that makes sense, obviously. Curtis raised her. Of course she’s gonna miss him. Champ isn’t an idiot and doesn’t want to be insensitive by pushing for sex when she isn’t feeling into it. 

He decides it might be fun to see where this goes, even with a freak like Wynonna. He'd always assumed she kinda hated him or something. Seems like nobody can resist the Champ forever.

* * *

It turns out he's wrong. Wynonna is every bit the crazy, loser freak she was before she skipped town. Aside from ripping the buttons off one of his favourite shirts, she'd nearly ripped his nipple clean off forcing him to talk about Curtis. Crazy bitch. 

At least his girl was there to remind Wynonna that Champ Hardy James wasn't someone you mess with. It was super hot the way Waverly burst in with the shotgun. His beautiful little spitfire in hotpants and a Shorty’s shirt. He'd have told her that too if she hadn't ended up wandering off with her bitch of a sister. Shame the shot hadn't been a few inches lower. 

Waverly had been distracted ever since then, running off to hang out at the Sheriff's department with Wynonna. Champ didn't like it. Waverly was _normal_ now. She shouldn't be going off getting involved in her sister’s weird shit, she’s supposed stay here with her boyfriend, pulling pints at the bar and hanging out with him while he shoots pool with Pete and Kyle. Her sister is a bad influence. The best thing that ever happened to Waverly was when Wynonna finally got the hint and left Purgatory. 

Champ remembered it fondly. Waverly had needed a _lot_ of comforting that day. And what are boyfriends for if not to comfort their girls? But that was then. This is now. 

Now, Waverly has started trailing around after her sister like a puppy and as if that isn't bad enough, the crazy bitch had convinced his girl to move into that shack on their homestead. The homestead where that psycho _killed_ their daddy. Where their sister got snatched. The place had been empty since the Earps left alive had been taken into care. Hardly a homely spot. Who the hell would want to live in a house from a horror movie? 

He’d said as much to Waverly when she’d told him what she was going to do. _That_ had been a mistake. They’d ended up shouting a whole bunch and then Waverly had started crying. Champ hated it when she cried. Her voice did that quivery thing and she jutted out her bottom lip and it made him feel _awful_ , and he _always_ caved on whatever they were fighting about. She’s cute when she cries, and _nobody_ is cute when they cry. He knew he was beat as soon as the first tear started to fall so he’d given up arguing. He’d just have to convince her to move back again as soon as he can. After all, how long can she spent with her loser sister before she realises how good she had it with him in the apartment above Shorty’s? 

She’ll be back, he’s sure of it. Her sister will bail soon enough and disappear back off to Europe or France or whatever, and he’ll be able to say ‘I told you so’. And she’ll most likely want to say ‘sorry’ and he’ll be happy to oblige in whatever way she wants to make it up to him. Things will be back to normal in no time at all.

* * *

 

Champ is sure he's jinxed. First he's the one to find Curtis missing his head and now he's being held at gun and knife point in the surplus store. Shorty is there with him so he's not alone at least, but the guys holding them hostage look full scale crazy. He has no idea what they want or if they plan to leave any survivors. They've already hurt Shorty. He says he'll be ok but he's a pretty old dude and Champ is freaked out. He's starting to panic that he's not gonna make it out alive. It's like a story from an action movie. Maybe they're terrorists. 

What if he dies here? He's barely lived. He's never left Purgatory, never seen the world. He had always wondered about finding an exotic place somewhere far from this town to shack up with Waverly. Maybe open a bar of their own. Get started on the next Champ legacy. He thinks he'd be a good business owner. He'd be a town favourite, like Shorty, and everyone would know that for a good time you'd head over to Champ's. And it wouldn't matter if they didn't speak English because Waverly had studied other languages and surely at least one of them would cover wherever they ended up. 

But that future is rapidly disappearing in front of his eyes. 

And suddenly Wynonna is walking into the room offering to trade herself for them, the hostages. Does that mean the police are outside? Wynonna doesn't seem scared but then she is crazy as all hell. For once, Champ is grateful that she is. And the kidnappers are talking to her like they know each other. _Of course_ Wynonna knows the crazy biker-looking terrorists with the knives and guns. 

They let a couple of the other people in the room go, but say that he and Shorty have to stay. Shorty and Wynonna seem pretty calm, but Champ wants to get the hell out now. They need a plan and if nobody else is gonna think of one then he would. 

Wynonna doesn't even answer him when he suggests she flash her knockers as a distraction. She just scowls at him. As if _she_ has any better ideas. Like she was so smart, getting voluntarily kidnapped and not even managing to free everyone like she was supposed to. 

And she continues to be just as useless, going into the other room with those crazy ass holes for a few minutes and when she comes back they're all being herded out the front door at gunpoint. 

The place is surrounded by police and that weird government cop that Wynonna and Waverly are always hanging out with. None of them do anything to help, they just stand there and point their guns. 

Champ had thought about being a cop. He'd tried out the preliminary exams a few times but hadn't done very well. Paperwork isn't his thing. He’s a man of action, and that's what being a cop was all about, right? If he'd been a cop right now he wouldn't just stand there. He'd shoot these ass holes right between the eyes. He’s a good shot. He unlocked all the shooting achievements in Call of Duty. 

They're bundled into the piece of shit van parked outside and driven outside of town. Wynonna seems to have lost all her bravado. Guess she's not as tough as she makes out. The guy holding the knife seems to freaking out especially hard now. Wynonna's brand of crazy has got nothing on him. 

And he keeps looking at Champ like he's a twenty ounce rare steak. Licking his lips and twitching like nuts. Champ shudders at the thought that these guys might be planning to kill them soon… Or worse _._ Were they rapists? Torturers? _Cannibals_? 

Soon enough they're being turfed out of the van and thrown down on the grass on a patch of land that Champ thinks might be east of town. He looks around, hoping that the police are following but there's nobody in sight. Shit. They're definitely going to die. 

Wynonna tries to talk to the kidnappers again. Waste of time, in his opinion. These guys are batshit. Talking about hell and witches and laying out some sort of crazy ritual stone circle. Makes no sense to make them madder than they already are. 

And it turns out Shorty is definitely hurt quite bad. There's blood and he must have lost a lot of it because he starts talking about Curtis and monsters. He's talking like he's not going to make it. The mental guy with the knife seems to think so too, like he's itching to cut him up. Like it's fun. 

Champ breathes a minor sigh of relief when the leader shoots his crazy-ass partner. Maybe there was a chance of them not all getting sacrificed or eaten or killed after all. And then the leader says something about using his body for a possession. _His_ body. Champ’s. 

Hell no. He takes better care of his body than anything, even his truck. He works out daily, he always looks on the food packets for the nutrition information… Hell, he doesn't even eat gluten. He tells Wynonna this, but she dismisses it. Typical. Doesn't care about things that matter to other people. Bossy bitch. 

The remaining kidnapper says he thinks Shorty isn't gonna make it. Champ thinks he might be right, the old man definitely doesn't look good. They need to get out of here fast or soon it won't matter. Wynonna keeps trying to bargain for their release but the guy isn't listening anymore. He's started chanting some sort of spell or something and is knelt over by the stone circle. Wynonna turns back to the others. 

“I don't think I can save us all. Run. Now.” She's looking at Champ so he springs to his feet ready to move. 

He hesitates, glancing at Shorty. Surely she can't expect him to carry the old man? 

“Just me or…?” 

She tells him to go, for Waverly, but still rolls her eyes all the same. Shorty tries to convince her to join him, but she's not having it. neither one of them are going anywhere for now, it seems. 

“I swear I'll get help,” Champ promises. He means it. He turns and legs it away across the grass and it's the last time he ever sees Shorty. 

Later on, when it’s all over and he's back home, and Waverly has finally stopped crying and fallen asleep on the pillow beside him, he allows himself to shed a quiet tear for his lost friend.

* * *

A couple of days later and they have a kind of memorial at the bar for Shorty. More or less everyone in town stops by at some point throughout the day. Champ mingles with everyone, assuring them all that he's ok when they ask, and talking about how scary the whole event had been. He raises numerous glasses to Shorty’s memory.

Waverly is floating around like she's made of glass. And sure he gets it, Waverly didn't have a daddy and Shorty had always looked out for her like she was his, but she's not gonna get over it if she doesn't at least try and cheer up. After all, Champ and Wynonna had survived. It could have gone a lot worse. Champ grudgingly has to admit that Wynonna may have been part of the reason he escaped. Waverly should focus on being grateful for that. Move forward, and not get hung up about the past. What's done is done. 

He doesn't wanna be a dick, but every time he looks over at her she's just moping and staring into space. Aren't memorials supposed to be about remembering the good times too? To celebrate life? _He’s_ alive and he sure wants to celebrate that. He doesn't mean any disrespect to Shorty, he's just counting his blessings he survived. It's made him appreciate his life in a whole new way. Made him appreciate what he has. 

He glances over at Waverly again. She's talking to that new ginger cop. He frowns. This new lady cop had pulled him over for speeding a couple of weeks back. She’s hot, if you're into that, and he'd tried to be... _friendly._ If he'd been pulled over by officer Leybourne then he'd have been fine. He turns on the Champ charm and she’s always pretty friendly back. One smile and she'd have let him off with a warning and a wink. Who cares if she’s like, forty or whatever. But this new cop apparently doesn't like to flirt and just gave him a ticket. Prudish bitch. 

He'd seen her around town since then - though he's already forgotten her name - she'd even been among the cops outside the surplus store the other day. She always looked at him like they'd had a fight he didn't know about. He doesn’t like her. He doesn't like the way she's talking to _his_ girl, like they're friends. As if they've known each other for more than, like, a minute. It's weird. Something about the woman doesn't sit right with him, but he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. 

She's holding Waverly’s hands comfortingly and Champ realises that his girlfriend has started to cry again. He downs his pint. It's boyfriend time. 

He skips over to her and wraps his arms around her, showing her with kisses. He's alive and full of appreciation for what he has, and what he has is an awesome hot girlfriend who needs cheering up. She sort of holds onto his arm half heartedly, but he takes it as a kind of hug. The ginger cop hangs around with that... _intense_ look on her face that she has sometimes. Weirdo. 

Waverly thanks her for the voicemail she left about her sister. Apparently it had been helpful or something. Champ wants to be polite so he thanks her too and to be fair he was glad that someone had called to tell Waverly was going on. He thought about how he'd feel if it had been Waverly in that surplus store and nobody even picked up a phone. It would have sucked. Still, the cop has that weird expression again, almost like she keeps forgetting he’s even stood there. Like she’s just talking to Waverly, and leaving him out. That’s just plain rude. 

Soon though she's leaving and Champ allows himself to express his thoughts about her out loud. Hopefully Waverly will see what he means. They don't need the hassle of another weirdo to deal with, so hopefully she’ll kick the cop to the kerb - Officer _Haught_ , Waverly reminds him of her name. And then suddenly she's crying all over again. 

He tries to calm her down, soothe her pain as best he can. He reminds her again that he's ok and that Shorty had helped save him. That’s something worth celebrating right? Shorty would want people to celebrate his sacrifice, right? He was a hero. 

Waverly gives Champ a half hearted smile and tells him that Wynonna had said _he_ was brave too. It’s high praise coming from that crazy bitch and he’s damn well gonna take it. It was a hell of a bad experience. They were nearly sacrificed. He pulls Waverly close again and for the hundredth time thanks god or whoever that he's still alive. He's never gonna let Waverly out of his sight again.

* * *

Gus is a shit landlady. She's running Shorty’s now and she's poking her nose into everything, asking all kinds of questions, about stuff that doesn't even matter, like who has a key to the apartment, and does he store any weapons up there. He thinks she's just trying to pry into his business because of Waverly. Gus has never been happy that her niece decided to move in with him to start with. In fact, Gus has never seemed to be happy with Champ, period. He doesn't know why. It's not like he ever did anything to piss her off, she just always has that look on her face like he's annoyed her somehow. 

He's not sure he's alright with the idea of having to answer to her every time he comes home. Plus, it's been weeks and Waverly doesn't seem to have any intention of moving back in with him. She keeps saying that it's good for Wynonna, and it's been good for their relationship. He doesn't give a shit about her relationship with that crazy bitch. He wishes they didn't have one. But it's obviously out of his hands, so he picks up the lease for a room above the auto shop across town and moves out. Gus gives him an earful about how he won't be able to just crash upstairs when he wants if he has a few too many drinks at the bar, but he tunes her out mostly. Totally worth it for an escape from the judgey old crone’s watch.

* * *

“Hands off my sister nine seconds!” 

“It was _eight_ seconds,” Champ corrects the older Earp. “Loser.” Of course she doesn't care. _Her_ legacy is that she put a bullet in her own Daddy’s back, why would she give a shit about his? 

And he doesn’t care really what Wynonna thinks but he is kinda bummed that Waverly doesn't correct her sister for him. She's normally so good. He's her Champ, after all. 

They're at the Earp homestead and the back of his truck is loaded up with old junk that Curtis had dug up from all over the outskirts of town. Most of it really is trash but there’s a stunning Harley among the stuff Gus had told him to haul. He was more than happy to oblige. Curtis hadn't left him anything in the will, but he’s going to marry Waverly at some point so her stuff is basically his too. He can't wait for the warmer weather to kick in so he can take that black beauty for a ride. He's normally not a bike person, but this thing is _sweet_. 

So he's more than a little gutted when Waverly says that Curtis specifically left the bike to Wynonna. What the hell? Champ had worked as a ranch hand for years, been super friendly and reliable and treated Waverly like a princess, and the old man leaves the Harley to his crazy freak niece who left town? The unfairness of it makes him seethe. Freakin’ typical. 

It takes a while for Wynonna to calm down and get off of his truck so he can unload the contents into the Barn. It's back breaking work and he's hoping that Waverly will want to thank him for it intimately later, but she seems to be too busy with the poem shed found from Curtis to watch his muscles as he lifts the boxes. It was like some kind of mystery clue that she was supposed to follow. Like a treasure hunt. She wants to get started on it right away. Waverly thinks it leads to Shorty’s and Champ happily follows along because at least he can grab a beer while they're there. He’s definitely earned it. 

He doesn't think there's any treasure really, it's probably just something Curtis left behind as a nice final message to Waverly. Champ is just at the point of hoping she'll just drop it so he can drag her up to the empty apartment for some fun when she actually finds a box hidden in a secret panel inside the piano. Holy shit. What if it's, like, a _shit load_ of money. They can use it to get the hell out of this crazy freak show of a town. Could open up that bar he'd been dreaming about. Waverly doesn't seem excited when he suggests opening a bar in Buenos Aires and the next thing he knows she's pulling a human skull out of the box. 

Of _course_ it's something super weird and not a life-changing treasure. For some reason though she's still pleased, like she won some kind of dead body parts lottery. It's too much weird for him so he tries to change the subject, tries to get her to relax and stop thinking so hard. 

She freaks out. Says something about Mexican food. Says they're done and just walks away with a smile like she didn't just go totally schizophrenic on him for no reason. 

“Wait, what? Waves what the hell?” He calls after her, completely blindsided. “Are you serious?” 

She spins round and the smile is gone. “Yes Champ, I'm serious. And let's be honest, it's been a long time in the making.” 

Champ is flabbergasted. What does she mean ‘a long time coming’? What did he miss? A minute ago they were hunting secret treasure together and talking about Buenos Aires. 

“Babe, you’re not making any sense? Come sit, let’s talk about this-” He tries to grab her hand but she pulls it out of reach. 

“Really Champ, it’s over.” She gives him a final, almost apologetic smile and walks towards the door. 

Champ’s mind is racing. He can’t figure out if he’s more upset, confused or hurt and settles in the end for angle. He scowls, lunging forward and grabbing Waverly’s arm to pull her back. She flinches and smacks away his hand, her face a picture of rage. 

“Let go of me!” she shrieks. Her voice is high pitched and Champ thinks she’s never looked less sexy in her life. 

“Waverly what the fuck?” he demands. “You’re acting crazy. What the hell did _I_ do? You can’t just ditch me for no goddamn reason and run away.” 

“Champ I’m sorry, I really am, but are you telling me you really think we’re compatible? You think we belong together?” She’s looking at him like he’s a total stranger. Like they haven’t been together for years, side by side, learning everything there is to know about each other. 

And suddenly Champ thinks she looks like a stranger too. 

It’s like he’s seeing her properly, for the first time since they met. She looks… different. He thinks of the cute, hot cheerleader in the rodeo stands - bubbly and innocent and his. She looks… older now. Looks sterner. Serious. She’s looking at him so intensely he feels naked - and not in a sexy way. It’s like she’s scanning him, like he’s exposed and can’t shield himself. 

Because she doesn’t want him. He’s Champ freakin’ Hardy James. He wrestled a calf to its knees in 8 seconds flat. He’s a town star. He has a legacy. And she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t just look different, she _is_ different. Five minutes ago she was a girl who wanted him, wanted to be with him, and now she’s not. He’s not sure where his Waverly went, but she’s not here now. 

Clearly it’s taken him too long to work all of this out in his head because before he can get another word out she’s turned on her heel and marched out the door. He clenches his fists, unsure of what to do with the fury bubbling up inside him. He whirls around and kicks a bar stool, sending the splintering pieces across the floor. He curses. Gus will be opening up soon and will probably want to make him pay to replace the stool. 

Then again, that’s not his problem any more, he realises. The tie between him and Gus has been cut. Between him and Gus, Wynonna and all of that crazy baggage that he has always hated about Waverly. As he thinks about it, it feels like a minor weight is lifted. Suddenly his future is opening up clear and wide because none of that baggage is in it. Because Waverly isn’t in it. But he loves Waverly. She’s been in his future for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t know how to think about a future without her. 

Why did she flip out? What changed? People don’t do things for no reason. All he needs to do is figure out what it is, how to fix it and then he can get her back. And when he does, he’s taking her the hell out of this town. He’ll marry her and they’ll start a family and all of this bullshit will be forgotten.

* * *

Suddenly it makes sense. He sees her - he sees _them_ and all the pieces fall into place. 

Waverly didn’t leave him, she was stolen. 

He watches them from across the town party, Waverly and the ginger cop. Officer goddamn Haught. He thinks back to when Waverly first started acting weird and he’s pretty sure it was when she had started being friends with the cop. What the fuck had that ginger bitch said to her? What words had she whispered to change Waverly? 

Because she had changed for sure. He’d noticed it the times that he’d seen her around since their breakup. She’s like a different person. All the familiarity is gone. He thinks of the girl who used to cling to his side, giggly and nervous, adoring of him and his accomplishments. She’s completely vanished and has been replaced by someone who doesn’t even notice him when she walks by and up the stairs. She doesn’t notice him because she doesn’t want him anymore. For some reason he just can’t get his head around, she wants that ginger bitch instead and she looks at her the way she used to look at him. And Haught looks back at her the same. Like it’s just two of them in the room and there isn’t an audience to their sickening public display of affection. Don’t they care that they’re just rubbing it in his face? It fires up an all-new rage in the pit of his stomach. 

He throws his head back and guzzles down his sixth glass of champagne, making a beeline for Haught. She rolls her eyes as he approaches. 

“I saw that you know,” he says. He can hear the slur in his own voice but he ignores it. It’s not like he can’t handle his drink and he wants to give this skank a piece of his mind. 

“Not now Champ.” She says the name like she knows him. Like she has any right to use it. She doesn’t. She wasn’t there, wasn’t part of his moment. She’s not from Purgatory and she doesn’t care that he’s the town champ. She doesn’t understand that it’s his legacy. She didn’t see it happen and she wasn’t there to cheer for him. Waverly was, and Waverly was _his_ until this bitch swooped in and stole her. She had no right to his girl and she has no right to his name, his legacy. 

“So you two are, like, together now, eh? That’s disgusting. _Disgusting_.” And he is disgusted. He looks at her face and thinks he’s never seen someone so ugly. So distorted. And Waverly was into that? What kind of freak would have the hots for someone so nasty. 

“You’re drunk Champ. I’d call it a night if I were you,” Haught replies, not unkindly. 

She pushes past him and for a moment the room spins. For a moment he feels genuinely nauseous and his face is clammy. He screws up his face in concentration. What had he been saying? He realises he’s clenching his fist so tight that his nails are digging into his palm. He relaxes his hand and stares at it for a moment, the little crescent shaped dents gradually turning pink as the blood returns. He blinks. The room is stable again. He’s not sure how long he’s been stood there, staring ahead at nothing. He looks up. The bitch is gone. 

How fucking dare she. He was in the middle of talking to her and she just walked away. Just like Waverly. They fucking deserve each other. Both of them all smiles and lies. Lies about being friends, lies about being decent people, lies about giving a shit about him. Lies about what Waverly wanted too. She said she wanted him and said she didn’t care that he wasn’t gonna be a cop. That was clearly horseshit because it looks like she spread her legs for the first cop who looked her way. And Haught must have known that she’d do that, because she was right there ready to pounce the second Waverly was available. 

Champ’s eyes scanned the room. He does a few laps of the party, trying to find her again. He’s not done. Eventually he sees her, she’s chatting to other locals, but she excuses herself when she sees him coming. She tries to walk away. Tries to avoid him. He follows her through the door towards the main staircase. 

“You know, as soon as we break up, you just swoop in and steal my girl,” he reminds her, the rage igniting in him once again. He starts to see actual red at the corners of his vision. 

And the bitch has the nerve to get angry with him. “OK, lower your voice. Waverly doesn't belong to anyone.” 

Oh sure, she doesn’t want to make a scene. Probably doesn’t want to get outed in front of the rest of the town. She cares so much about her own feelings and Waverly’s feelings, but still doesn’t give a shit about him. Champ’s vision starts to blur at the edges and to him the officer starts to look like a demon.

“Oh, yeah, blah blah blah feminism blah.” He mocks her, starting up the stairs towards Waverly who has appeared at the top. 

“Champ!” She scolds, “You're drunk. And apparently a raging homophobe.” 

He’s incensed at the suggestion. He doesn’t have a problem with lesbians at all. He has, like, a whole library of photos on his laptop that proves it. She doesn’t even get that he’s pissed because she lied about what she wants. 

“Oh, you think this is because she's a girl?” 

“OK, Champ, I think you've had enough,” Sheriff Nedley tries to intervene. He talks to Champ like he’s a child. Just reinforcing the fact that he, Champ, isn’t part of their police club. Well he knows what might rock the boat for their super cop team a little. 

“Of course you're gonna take her side. You know, every time I failed that preliminary law enforcement exam, she would say, "It's OK, Champ. You have nothing to prove." But apparently that was a lie.” He gestures to officer Haught. “She's dating a cop.” 

When Nedley doesn’t seem to care it’s just too much for Champ to deal with. The rage bubbling beneath the surface erupts, working its way from his stomach up to his throat. He feels it, thick and hot, like fire that’s burning. It’s painful. There’s a pressure in his head and the red in his vision has taken over. He feels his muscles tense. Something isn’t right. This doesn’t feel like being drunk. It feels wrong. 

Nedley wants to take him away. Probably arrest him. And for what? He’s the goddamn victim here. 

“No!” He finds himself barking, his hand clenching without his permission, shattering the glass in his hand. He feels the bubbling rage in his throat spill out and he feels like he’s going to be sick. It tastes like champagne, the bubbly foam that dribbles out of his mouth. 

He hears Waverly’s voice. Judging. “Champ, are you on something other than bubbly?” 

He snaps. 

It’s like he’s having a nightmare, like the world around him is spinning and swirling, the colours and lights and shadows morphing into each other and all he can see is Waverly in front of him, looking at him like he’s some kind of freak. Part of him wants to apologise. Part of him wants to rip her head off. He doesn’t realise he’s lunged for her, but Nedley steps in to protect her. To protect Waverly from Champ. His heart sinks. 

Did they think he was he going to hurt her? _Was_ he going to hurt her? He doesn’t feel in control anymore. His thoughts are a mess, conflicting with each other from one moment to the next. He’s half horrified at himself and half panicked. Half angry, half scared. What the hell is going on?

He knows he needs to get out of here and makes to head back down the stairs. The fist comes out of nowhere and suddenly he’s seeing stars. It takes him a few seconds to realise it was the ginger bitch that hit him. For a fleeting moment he’s grateful. His vision clears and he can tell that something is really wrong. He doesn’t resist though when she slams the cuffs on his wrists and Nedley pulls him to his feet. 

His vision starts to fog again and the nightmare continues. He chokes for air through the foam that’s clogging up his throat, and it’s hot like lava. He’s burning up inside and he wants to claw out his own jugular. He wants to claw at something. Anything to relieve the burn. He catches glimpses of the party between the swirling mess in front of his eyes. It’s like he’s stuck on the spinning roller coaster at the carnival and can’t get off. He feels the hands pulling him through the room and looks around to see officer Haught. He tries to call out. 

 _Help_. The words don’t come, and all he can manage is a gargled groan. 

A voice somewhere else in the room starts talking about poison and antidotes and Champ realises what’s happened. His hand still stings from the glass he crushed earlier. He wonders if that was just the pain of sharp cuts, or if the poison itself was burning him. The thought disappears quickly as his brain gives up and unconsciousness takes over. The last thing he hears is the voice in the room saying Wynonna’s name. 

Figures, Champ thinks.

* * *

 

It’s been months since that night. There were no lasting effects from the poison and after some big government bio agency came and gave everyone a cure, nobody spoke much about it. Everyone had acted pretty crazy, not just Champ, but he still didn’t like to think about it. He was ashamed to think about it. About how for a fleeting moment he wanted to wring Waverly’s neck and watch the life drain out of her. About how he’d really _meant it_. He knows now that it was the poison, but to him it makes no difference. He never wants to look her in the eye again. 

He’d made a point not to cross paths with her after that. It had quickly become apparent that was going to be tricky since the whole town still loved her so she obviously didn’t feel the need to hide. Funny thing was that the town seemed to love Champ just a little bit less. Like maybe Champ had got it wrong all along. Like maybe, the thing the town loved about him was that he was with Waverly. And suddenly his legacy didn’t matter to anyone anymore. 

It didn’t take long for him to make the decision to leave. To find a new place and make a fresh start. He took his handyman business on the road and set up shop a hundred miles away, where they’d never heard of Purgatory or Waverly Earp. 

And now, finally, he’s starting to be happy again. He’s back to flirting with girls at the local bar, shooting pool with the other townsfolk, and swapping stories about girls and bar fights. He spares a thought here and there for Waverly and genuinely hopes she’s happy. He tries not to spare a thought for officer Haught, because when he does they’re usually thoughts about decking her square between her brown, girlfriend-stealing eyes. He wants to be better than that though. There’s no point dwelling on the past. What’s done is done. 

And suddenly he overhears some of the local ranch owners talking about their town rodeo. They’re talking about their steer wrestling champion, who set the town record at ten point four seconds. 

“Pshh, that’s nothin’,” Champ scoffs, and they turn to him with raised eyebrows. 

“Oh you think you can do better, do you son?” The leader of the pack folds his arms and looks at Champ, unconvinced. Champ can’t help but smirk. “Who the hell are you?” 

He hears the rush of the crowd cheering from so many years ago. The PA system calling out his record win as the town screams his name. It’s crystal clear in his ears, like it has been every day since. 

 _8 seconds! That’s 8 seconds flat, meaning Purgatory has a new champion - Hardy James!_  

The Champ of Purgatory. It’s been a tough legacy to live up to. Maybe it’s time for a new one. 

“Name’s Hardy James,” he says. “Town handyman.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually got super drawn into this fic and I can't believe I managed to write this many words about Champ freakin' Hardy. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it (assuming you even read this far), and I hope you all understand that I'm not trying to excuse any of his bad behaviour or decisions, but just give him a chance to be fleshed out like a real person. Life isn't black and white, and he's not a cartoon villain after all.


End file.
